Half-Dragon
by T.S. Atlas
Summary: The story of an outcast, disregarded by human kind and her own, seeking purpose, seeking to become a champion, seeking to be more than just a monster.


So first off, I'd like to dedicate this story a good buddy of mine, Philippe Z. for taking the time to go and complete a League referral for me (Need one more for Twitch skin!) and as a show of my gratitude, I asked him which League character he wanted me to write a story for him, and his answer was Shyvana. He wanted a story of her entering the League, and, that's what this is, and, one idea I had was to do a League judgement for her, since, she never had one in her lore. I am actually pretty happy how it all turned out. I hope you all enjoy, and Philippe, once again, thank you very much, man, this one is for you. If you enjoyed, I would appreciate any reviews or favorites -TSA

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_Half-Dragon_

She felt her stomach churn at the mere thought of it. For all of her life, she was prosecuted for existing. Monster, the humans called her, abomination, her own kind called her. All but for one of her kind. Her father. He loved her, as much as a father could love his child. He died for her. And she found herself alone. At first, she was angry. "Why, why did you leave me alone?" she thought, and soon her anger flared into fury, and from that fire burned vengeance. She pushed herself. Humans were scared of her. As a child, their constant fearful gazes had troubled her, had hurt her immensely. Now, no number of gazes could hurt her like the loss of her family. She found herself alone.

But, she was no longer a child, but a woman grown and a beast with her fangs sharpened. She embraced what she was. To the call of monster, she would hiss menacingly. The little girl, scared at her own shadow, is now gone. She was strong now, as strong as she needed to be to accomplish her goal, to kill the dragon that robbed her of her family; that robbed her of that little innocent girl she once was. No longer. No longer shall she be scared. She will have her vengeance.

And yet…why did her heart rate quicken…why did her chest tighten…her brow sweat…why was she…scared…

He hands clenched into fists. No running away, she told herself. She will fight, she can't afford not to, not anymore, not after she lost so much, not after she lost everything. And yet…she was not strong enough…she would have died…if not for…him. A wandering prince by the name Jarvan Lightshield IV, offered her his hand, an act so foreign to her, his eyes beamed at her and he wore a smile, a genuine one. And yet…within those eyes…she could see cold, she could see hardness. And yet, there was no fear. He looked in her eyes, and she saw him. She didn't know why, but, she took his hand, and together, they turned their attention to the beast. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. All fear dissipated as they charged, charged at the dragon, charged at her father's killer.

And with his help…it was over…she cried…for the first time in years…she let loose tears. She couldn't tell whether they were of happiness or for mourning. She felt, finally, her father could rest peacefully. But, what about her? What peace would she find? She had nothing…but then, she felt something, a tap on the shoulder, and when she looked up, she saw him standing there, clad in golden armor, extending his hand to her. She took it, clung to it. And so, he gave her a position in his guard, and so, he gave her a home, and so, he gave her a purpose.

And as they arrived at the kingdom known as Demacia, she could not help but tsk in annoyance. All the humans gave her queer looks. It was clear she was not meant to be here, it was clear she was a freak, a monster, an outsider. And yet, he reassured her, her place was by his side. She put up with it all, finding solace in serving this man, in guarding him, for he looked to her and saw her fangs and nails and scaled skin, but rather than fear her, he saw strength, he saw potential. No matter what anyone would think of her…no matter what they said of her…no matter how they looked at her…she was his...he saw her as a person, not a monster, and she saw him as her prince, someone she respected, someone she would obey. After all, he deserved that much from her.

He gave her…something…he gave her what she had lost…he gave her purpose. She would serve him, follow him into battle, follow him into death.

And she kept that promise. She found herself now at the Institute of War, the League of Legends, following after her prince, to serve for Demacia, just as he. But, why did she feel this way…why did she feel…nervous…was it because she was scared that she would not be with the Prince anymore? No…not that…never that…she would always serve him…always be indebted to him…no…what she was scared of…was taking that first step.

To become a champion.

To be seen as an equal to her Prince.

To stand on her own, once again.

Was she ready? Could she actually do it? Did she have purpose outside of service to Jarvan? Did she…could she…have something more? Did she deserve such a thing? An abomination like her? A freak? A monster? To have always been prosecuted for her very existence? And now…it seems as though her fate rested in the hands of strangers…of people she did not know…would they see her, or the monster? Will they see Shyvana? Or will they see the Half-Dragon? Or worse…will they see both? Can she become a champion of the League? Can she rise? Can she find purpose in her existence, find it in her own existence, and not just be given it? Can she fulfill her own wishes, can she fulfill her want to exist? Can she stand on her own, above others, above the prosecution, and be seen as something else, can she be dignified?

Can she be accepted?

Her stomach churned. She barred her teeth. If she wanted to be a champion…she had to show her strength. She felt a fire burn in her chest, her eyes blazing wildly. She would show them, show them all. If they wanted to see a monster, she would show them a monster…but…a monster, so ferocious, so elegant, and so strong, they would be filled with respect instead of fear. She would show them what Jarvan saw in her so long ago. She would show the, Shyvana, show them the Half-Dragon, show them her strength and power, and justice and viciousness, and show them…herself. She will not run, she will not hide. This is who she was. And now, finally, standing before the heavy stone doors of the great hall to obtain her League Judgement, she finally had accepted herself.

For so long, her very existence was a sin, for so long, she was dejected, for so long, she was hurt…and now…stepping inside the great hall, where all that met her was darkness, she accepted herself.

And then, fire.

Fire, filling the empty and black room, rising upon the walls as a loud screech rang out from the opposite end of the room. And there, amidst crimson flames, was a dragon, its skin pale blue, its scales and wings as bright and red as the flames that surrounded it, and gold, as if it were made of light, detailing its spine and tail and horns.

So then, this is what she was, she thought. She finally saw the monster…saw the dragon that she was…she finally saw Shyvana. And for a split second…her heart skipped a beat…and like that, she was off, running at full speed towards the dragon, her feet burning the stone as the fire that raged within her chest swirled around her. The dragon screeched once again, posing at her, and she jumped to meet it, her fist meeting its snout as fire consumed the room, as fire consumed everything. She was no longer scared of herself.

And that is when she woke up, a man in a long dark robe before her as she sat up from the stone floor.

"Shyvana, the Half-Dragon. You have come here for your sentencing, and so, we have tested you, seen inside you, and lived through your memories, your eyes and feelings. And so…" her eyes opened wide, the summoner extended his hand to her "we would like to acknowledge you as a Champion of the League of Legends."

Tears streamed down her face. But this time, she knew for a fact why. She was not confused any longer. She was happy. She was accepted. She reached out and took his hand.


End file.
